


Remy's Black Shirt

by Sandmans_Raven



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Cats, F/M, rogue/gambitweek2020, rogue/remyweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22587103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandmans_Raven/pseuds/Sandmans_Raven
Summary: It's date night and Remy can't find his black shirt. The cats aren't much help.
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Rogue
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	Remy's Black Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> This was quick one-shot made for the Rogue/GambitWeek2020 Day 5 Prompt - Cats

A beam of sunlight shone through the living room window, casting a spotlight on Oliver who was in the middle of a late-afternoon snooze on the couch. His tail twitched as he heard Lucifer bound up to the armrest and take a seat. Lucifer’s head oscillated back and forth while he watched his brother’s tail before he crouched down, his ears flattening. The cat pounced onto the couch in a streak of orange, attempting to clasp at the tail with both paws.

Oliver sat up immediately, meowing at Lucifer while pulling his tail away. Lucifer was relentless, though, scrambling for his prey with vicious speed but Oliver swatted at his nose before backing up against the opposite armrest. The orange cat, either surprised or a little dazed, pulled back and meowed low and threateningly. The two stared at one another, each waiting for the other to make a move.

“Hey, hey, break it up,” Rogue said at the last second as she entered the living room. She picked Lucifer up, raising him in the air until he was eye-level with her. “Don’t go picking fights, sugah.”

The orange cat replied with a confused coo.

“He just doesn’t like to be touched,” she replied. He purred in her hands, unable to understand that he was being scolded at the moment. She scratched behind his ears and before setting him down on the hardwood floor. “Just like his mama.”

“I guess Lucifer takes after his daddy, then,” Remy said, emerging from the bathroom. 

When Rogue looked down she saw the cat rubbing up against her shins, purring like an engine as he snaked through her legs.

“He’s a little more subtle with his affection than you, Remy,” Rogue said with a side-grin. She eyed her husband, seeing that he was still wrapped in nothing but a towel. “Would you hurry up? Bobby and his new beau are goin' to get there before us and Ah wanted to make sure we got the seat next to the koi pond.”

“I’m hurryin’, chere,” he said, walking to the bedroom. “You seen my black shirt anywhere?”

“Could you be more specific?” she asked. “You have like ten black shirts.”

Drawers and closet doors clattered open from the bedroom as the man searched for something to wear. “The one I got in Prague after the whole Skrull thing last month. You said it makes me look like The Phantom of the Opera.”

“That wasn’t a compliment, darlin’.” She went to the laundry room and pulled open the dryer door, only finding towels and socks. Lucifer walked over and perched up onto the opening, trying to get into the dryer before Rogue pulled him back. “You got a death-wish or somethin’, cat?”

“Is dat why you told me to take it off?” Remy said, rounding the corner into the laundry room.

“That…among other reasons,” she said with a wink. “Why can’t you just wear something else? How ‘bout your green one? Ah think you look like Robin Hood in that, which is a step up from the Phantom.”

“I wore it last weekend,” Remy replied.

Rogue looked down at the purple sundress she wore and felt a flash of embarrassment having also worn it the previous weekend but stifled it. She was about to suggest another shirt to her husband when she spied something in the corner of her eye. Across from the machines sat a wall of shelves where they kept a miscellaneous of assorted goods from canned food to laundry detergent to different spices that Remy liked to cook with. The shelves were such a potpourri of different things, she almost didn’t see that there was a white cat sleeping on the bottom shelf in between a package of paper towels and a box full of playing cards.

“Remy,” Rogue said, spying black fabric underneath the cat. “Ah think Ah found it.”

“Really?” he said, his eyes brightening. When he followed her line of sight, however, he deflated. “Oh.”

As if aware of the man’s disappointment, Figaro rose from the shirt he had made a make-shift nest out of and trotted over to Remy where he rubbed himself against his shin before going to his water dish. Little white hairs covered the shirt, standing out even more against the black fabric. Remy picked up the shirt, hoping he could brush the hair from it, but gave up quickly, dropping it into the washer.

Rogue chuckled and left for the bedroom. “Green it is.”


End file.
